A couple of days ago, I read about the
Apostle Paul’s trials and afflictions during his missionary journeys. You
probably know the ones I am talking about – the ones he called “light and
momentary.” My immediate response to myself was, “MAN UP, wuss!” The fever may
have left me feeling like I had been stoned and left for dead, but Paul
actually was stoned to death (they thought), among other physical and verbal
insults to his person. If he could call his light
and momentary, mine were insignificant by comparison.
Paul puts a positive spin on his troubles by telling
the Corinthians that “Blessed is the God and Father of our
Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who
comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort
those who are in all affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves
are comforted by God.” Five times he uses “comfort” to explain what God has
done so that we can imitate His comfort towards others. It’s my turn. My wife
caught the bug I brought home (Isn’t that always the way?). Now I get to take
Paul’s advice. (Pardon me. I have to get my wife another dose of Emergen-C.)
I can also think of a couple family issues I have had to
suffer that helped me to comfort friends when they had problems with kin. It is
good to have someone to come alongside and bolster your strength so that you
can find a place of forgiveness that allows healing to begin. Had I not
suffered indignity and found that God’s grace could bring me back to loving
forgiveness, I think my advice to my friend would ring hollow. “Been there;
done that” is the only qualification you need to offer genuine comfort.
This got me thinking about the level of comfort we take for
granted in America today. Got a headache? Take a Tylenol. Got a stomachache?
Take a Pepto. Got a muscle ache? Take some ibuprofen. Got a heart ache (the
emotional kind – not the cardiac kind)? Take an antidepressant. We don’t want
to put up with the tiniest discomfort; we want instant relief. We want comfort.
That thought led me to the well-known passage in Isaiah, “Comfort ye, my
people.” I realized that God's offer through Isaiah was not a
Tylenol or a Band-Aid type of comfort. It was more along the lines of “My
Servant is going to die, but He will rise from the dead on schedule.”
Therefore, take comfort.
In other words, God did not want Isaiah to promise a bed of
roses. Actually, He promised a bed of thorns, but His balm
in Gilead would salve their wounds at the proper time. This was the
conclusion Paul came to when faced with a “thorn in the flesh… from Satan.”
He could glory in his discomfort because he knew where his ultimate comfort was
coming from. That attitude also put credit where credit is due. He said, “Therefore
I delight in weaknesses… for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”
I am happy to have returned to the state of ridiculous
comfort I am blessed with – what most of us in this country are blessed with.
But I am reminded that discomfort is not necessarily a bad thing. I
have written before that God is more concerned with our character than our
comfort. If he allows discomfort, it is likely because He is molding our
character into the perfect likeness of Christ. That’s what I want, whether it’s
comfortable or not. Can you feel me?
Related Posts: Crown of
Thorns; Friendship With the World; The
Country Club Church
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